


Prompt 8: Clamor

by Doc_Skipjack585



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Death, Interrogation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doc_Skipjack585/pseuds/Doc_Skipjack585
Summary: San does still do work for the Eorzean Alliance, but of a decidedly different nature than her friends.
Kudos: 1





	Prompt 8: Clamor

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 8 for the FFXIV 30-Day Writing Challenge!  
> My monitor got KO'd from age last week, so I've missed a lot of these prompts ;_;  
> This one's a little dark. I should try making the next on happy.

San walked through the steel, cermet, and stone halls of the Castrum’s prison. Steel boots fell heavy on the grating beneath her feet, the jeers of imperial prisoners of war rising to a cacophony as they taunted and threatened and clamored at her from behind wrought iron bars. Myriad kinds of threats, as well, of course. Murder, Torture, Beatings. No small number were so desperate to put fear into her as threatening rape. She was unfazed by her... _subjects_. A quick glance towards a cell was all it took to make it’s inhabitants scurry away from the gate and cower from the diminutive woman. Yes, these were _her_ subjects. Test Subjects, that is. So many and myriad theories to test, and all at the expense of the Eorzean Alliance. And the Empire’s armies, of course. Taking a step closer to the cell door, she looked one of the men up and down. Swarthy and Sturdy-looking, a certain mix of defiance and knowing the grim portent of being chosen. Aye, he would do for tonight. Hopefully this one would survive until the following morning.

The man was brought before her, tied to a chair by the Prison Guards. She excused them. They didn’t like having to watch what followed. Taking a look about his body, she noted how well she had chosen indeed. Muscular, rugged, and stubborn. Good. Running a sharp metal claw along his shoulders and over the back of his neck, she murmured an incantation from her admittedly large tome of spells she had been testing. Turning back to his front, large smile on display with her eyes hidden from view beneath an Ash Half-Mask, He began to shudder a little, the spell taking effect much quicker than she had anticipated.

“So! What, pray tell, was the Empire doing Timmon Beck and Bittermill? The complete lack of life isn’t far off of what you folks usually do, but something’s off about that place.”

Twitching, the man could barely eek out a reply,  
“N-Nothing...th-th-the place has been...abandoned for y-years. W-wuh-we O-only patrolled th-th-there as a m-muh-muh-matter of course.”

Well that just wouldn’t do. They needed information on what went down there and nobody seemed to know.  
“Is there _anything_ of worth you can even tell me? Gods, I’m tired of you dull-brained fodder being so… _worthless_.” 

He grit his teeth.  
“Puh-puh-please...I’ve not been here that long. I--”

_SLAP!_  
“I didn’t ask to hear your life’s story, dimwit. I asked if you had any information worth even the modicum of time and effort I’ve spent here.”

Silence. It was clear she wasn’t getting much out of this one. Well…not much past the experience with her new spells. He was starting to go catatonic from spell working a bit too quickly through his system. Unfortunate. Might as well add to it!

….the sound from inside the room sounded like something was being gored by a Gridanian Boar. The guards outside shifted back and forth as the sound of something hitting the door resounded from behind them. Eyeing each other, they both nodded and went to open it...only for the man from before to practically blast through it, laughing and screaming a short distance down the hallway before collapsing in a pile of what used to be a sane man. The prisoners in the nearby cells questioned what, exactly, the hells was going on. San silently walked up to her subject and he quickly began clamoring at her waist, for succor...and death. Begging, still laughing from going half-mad at her poking and prodding with a half-dozen spells as his body began to necrotize in huge swathes. She looked at him, disgust plain on her lips as she slowly pushed the clamoring man’s body onto the floor and smugly walked to the exit. The fear in the air was palpable.

“Goodnight, my dears. I’ll be seeing more of you all tomorrow.”


End file.
